


Tempting Fate

by a_r_p



Series: Renegade [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Culavellan, Cullavellan - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Solavellan, Spoilers, Trespasser - DLC Spoilers, but mostly Solavellan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_r_p/pseuds/a_r_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel to Aftermath, showing the private moments between Ellana Lavellan and Solas, and their developing relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter was originally going to be part of my Theneras, a ficlet to accompany Aftermath, but I just couldn't get enough of Solavellan and spurred on by copious amounts of tumblr art, I decided to write their relationship before he leaves too. Again, thank you for all the kudos and wonderfully kind comments. I hope you enjoy this as much as Aftermath, and please check out my Theneras drabbles. Much love!

_“Breathless fumblings in the dark; a kiss here, a squeeze there. Hands roaming and exploring, feeling every contour and crevice. Taut muscles under soft skin, I wonder if he has freckles anywhere else? Lips pressing hard, passionate kisses that never seem to end. We’re on the bed now and I can feel his weight on me. He should be crushing me but he’s holding himself steady, the perfect gentleman. I want to go, rip his clothes from his body and let him do the same to me. I don't know what he looks like underneath, not like the spindly boys from the clan. But I don’t want to know, it’s too tempting, too distracting. My hands are exploring again, further this time, down, down and…”_

“Cole, please.”

 _“Wait, what am I doing? What is WRONG with me?! The Inquisitor, a dirty pervert. You should be ashamed of yourself. But if it’s so wrong, why can’t I stop thinking about it? Tongues touching, probing, pressing. Bodies entangled, aching… No I can’t! He’s looking, he knows! Think of something, anything else…”_

“That’s enough for now. Thank you, Cole.” Solas uttered, not taking his eyes off of the Inquisitor. She sat just away from the camp fire, a bright glow resonating on her skin, the same colour as her eyes. She hadn’t looked up, she just sat perched on a log, eyes on the ground. It was only their third or fourth outing together, but it was their first in the Emerald Graves, a place where they felt so much heritage and shared so much pain. 

It wasn’t fair for the Inquisitor to keep bringing Solas along with her. _She must be doing this on purpose_ he thought. Stringing him along and tempting him with every graceful gesture and roll of her hips. It drove him mad, especially when he saw the way she treated the other men in Skyhold, especially the Commander. She would flutter her long golden eyelashes and laugh effortlessly at their crude jokes. Her kohl-rimmed yellow eyes, flecked with red, would bore into his as he spoke, occupying all of his concentration to keep a coherent sentence flowing. It was in these moments he most wanted to lean in and kiss her, to wipe that smug snarl from her smart mouth and replace it with lustful moans for him. 

_Seductress._

It was her attitude, though, that made this new revelation most surprising. Her voice dripped with sarcastic drawls most of the time, and flirtatious divulgences the rest, only peppered with genuine concern when civilians or her companions were in danger. 

“Why don’t you say anything to her, Solas? It would make her happy and it would make you happy.” The spirit-boy enquired. 

“Because Cole -” Solas began, “my happiness is irrelevant, and the Inquisitor does not need any distractions from her work. Which, may I remind you, is to defeat the evil that befalls this world and ultimately, make people happy.” 

“But she’s already distracted. Can’t you tell?” 

“I appreciate the encouragement Cole, but it is better this way. And please, I would prefer you not to mention our little talks with anyone else.”

“I want to make it better. If this makes it better, then I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, friend.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas admires the Inquisitor's fighting skills during a trip to the Emerald Graves.

There was so much greenery in the surrounding area that it was almost a blessing to catch sight of other colours. The lush foliage made everyone watch their step, as long strands of grass got caught around bootstraps and nugs flurried between ankles. The Emerald Graves was a place with a chilling history that none would have suspected if it were not for the name. 

The Inquisitor was brazen and confident as ever as they worked their way through the forest towards the site of the suspected rift. The four of them had a perfectly formed strategy, seemingly failsafe at this stage. Solas would take the rear, observing the perimeter for despair demons and terrors whilst simultaneously maintaining barriers for the others. Meanwhile, Cassandra charged through the remaining enemies, striking them down one by one as Cole targeted the unsuspecting pests that were the wraiths. Ellana, on the other hand, would strike at the heart of the rift, taking down any pride demons and using the anchor to seal the opening. 

It should have worked like any other time. Cassandra and the Inquisitor made short work of the pride demon, before pursuing the wraiths. Solas was maintaining a steady barrier, using any remaining mana to cast stone fists from the fade at the enemies. If it were not for the Inquisitor, he would not have been so distracted. Her hair had come loose from it’s usual hurried ponytail, and the sweat on her forehead had made the strands closest to her face curl. She flitted between the wraiths, daggers piercing at various points. He watched the dagger in her left hand puncture the translucent plasma of the spirit, as she leaped over it, feet pointed daintily like a dancer. Before her feet had made contact with the floor, her dagger in her right hand had sliced the throat of the creature. It dissipated into ashes as she landed crouched on the soft ground. 

He was astonished at the technical precision of the movement, but more so he was transfixed at the contrast between her beautifully supple form and the disturbing disregard for the life of the spirit. It seemed strange that an act of such thoughtlessness and brutality could be conducted with such grace and elegance, as though it was the final scene of a play that had been rehearsed time and time again. Were it not for Ellana’s captivating demeanour on the battlefield, he would have spotted it sooner.

An ear-splitting screech cut through the air as a hooded figure emerged from behind a hillock. The despair demon’s beam of ferocious ice was headed straight for Solas. He dodged it capably, but it began to float unwaveringly towards him. His staff was too weak to best the creature himself, he just had to hope it would be distracted by the commotion. Cassandra and Cole were still finishing off the remainder of the wraiths but the Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen. He braced himself for the cold, hoping he could survive the initial blast long enough for a good retaliation. 

Before he had time to devise a better plan, he felt a rush of air push past the tips of his ears, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Ellana had come from behind him and landed in between himself and the demon, blades slashing furiously at the hooded creature. It began to project its ice again, but Ellana had already pushed Solas to the ground before thrusting a long blade under the jaw of the demon, pointed edge protruding crudely from its mouth, rotten flesh spilling onto the floor.   
 Before it had even collapsed, she was back at the rift, sealing it with the pull of a clenched fist. It was done. 

Back at the camp, conversation was scarce as Cole sat “skulking” by the fire, Cassandra busying herself discussing arrangements regarding Fairbanks with the other scouts. Ellana had just returned from bathing when Solas caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye. 

“Inquisitor!”  
She often flinched when he referred to her by her title, having often expressed she preferred her companions call her by her name. Or literally, anything else, save perhaps Herald. 

“Solas?”

“I just wanted to express my gratitude for earlier. It was foolish of me to be so distracted in the midst of battle, it will not happen again.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She retorted, expression unreadable. Solas frowned at her, unsure of her intentions or if she had genuinely forgotten the whole debaucle. As he turned to walk away, he looked back one last time, catching a glimpse at her wink at him, a deliciously mischievous smirk on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas lends the Inquisitor a hand after an unfortunate 'trip'.

The trek through Emprise du Lion had been hard, the cold frost was biting at everyone’s extremities, and Solas often found that the boots he had donned for this occasion filled with snow, leaving his feet sopping and squelching. He would have preferred to be bare-footed, but the Inquisitor had insisted. 

With any luck, this would be the last journey of this kind for the group, as the Inquisitor had announced that they would be taking Suledin Keep the next morning, now that the majority of the Red Templars in the area had been destroyed, and Mistress Poulin apprehended. 

Ellana had chosen Cassandra, Solas and Dorian _(“Two mages are better than one!”_ she had drawled apathetically) but Solas missed the company of Cole. 

“I’m sorry Solas but there’s only room for one superbly talented dagger-wielding assassin in the group.” Ellana had said pointedly.

Solas often thought that he wanted to teach that smart mouth a lesson, but had yet to decide how.

“Besides, Cassandra’s not impressed with his…. impositions. Maybe next time.”

Cole’s company on these outings was invaluable to Solas, he was the only one of the Inquisitor’s companions who hadn’t openly chastised him for being an apostate, and he also provided beneficial input regarding demons and other suspects. Not only this, but they’d had an… _arrangement._ Cole had agreed to - from time to time - give Solas an insight into the inner workings of the Inquisitor’s mind, something that often puzzled and bewildered him. Her actions were erratic and decisions seemed thoughtless. It was only when Cole was there that he was able to decipher her true intentions and more often than not, he would arrive at the same verdict as her.

It therefore, came as no surprise that Solas was unusually quiet on this trip, choosing not to converse with his fellow mage or the warrior. He would have preferred not to come along without Cole there to distract him. He hung back, Cassandra taking the lead with Dorian, and the Inquisitor just behind. Despite her Dalish background, Ellana had spent little time in Orlais and was perhaps the least qualified to lead the direction. Solas hadn’t seemed to mind, the view was… exquisite. 

There was no harm in looking, after all. The Inquisitor was oblivious, clearly lost in her own thoughts. She already knew what he thought of her. 

_“So you’re suggesting I’m graceful?”_

_“No, I’m declaring it. It was not a subject for debate.”_

The words from Haven echoed through his mind as he was reminded of the regret regarding the attachment formed. It had been a long time, too long in fact. Her agility and vivacity brought out his younger side, forcing him to keep up with her youthful movements and seemingly volatile personality. It almost encouraged a healthy competition, one where they would move around each other in battle, as if in a spontaneous, unrehearsed dance, point-scoring over who-saved-whom the most. 

These little games made Solas painfully aware of what he’d miss when it was all over. He could only hope she’d come with him, or that his feelings would dissipate before it got to that point. There was a decision to be made, whether the short term benefit was worth the long-term pain. However, he had come to the conclusion that he would rather have fond memories of the Inquisitor as she was at times like this, than of her crying, screaming and throwing things at him. Maybe she would be eerily silent and never speak to him again? Or even worse, have precious memories of intimate encounters, only to see Corypheus slaughter her in the heat of battle. Either way, it was an outcome not to be desired. 

He watched as her the gentle sway of her hips made her Dalish amour flair side to side, her nimble limbs effortlessly moving between branches of trees and over the carelessly scattered bricks of ruined architecture. He could see the calloused soles of her feet, a body part he had seen on many, but seeing the Inquisitor’s seemed scandalously daring. 

Solas was about to remark as to why the Inquisitor was allowed to tread bare-footed in the snow whereas he was not when - as if in slow motion - he watched the ball of her left foot slide over a barely visible patch of ice, sending her entire left leg over the balustrade of the bridge she was walking over, as her head and upper body tipped over the edge. 

Within a split second, Solas had fade stepped towards the Inquisitor, extending a hand over the balustrade to catch her, only for her to land front first in a half frozen pond. 

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra called, as she began to run towards the pair. Dorian stifled a laugh, but not before giving Solas a meaningful look, one eyebrow cocked attempting to hide a smirk. 

“Shit…” Ellana began to rise out of the water in her sopping wet armour, hair matted and disheveled, curly golden locks beginning to fall around her face. Solas remembered her mentioning something about her hair being curly when wet.

“Here, let me.” he extended an arm to lift her out of the freezing water as she began to shiver uncontrollably, lithe arms shaking under the weight of the soaked garment. 

“Well well well, that’s a first! The mighty Inquisitor defeated by a puddle. It’s a shame there aren’t more witnesses…” Dorian chirped in the background. 

Neither of them were listening, as Solas removed the outer layer of his robe - now standing only in a tunic and basic pants - to wrap it tightly around her. He could feel and see her shaking, but she seemed to still under the warmth of his fingertips on her arms. 

“We should make camp. You will fall ill if we cannot get you warm and dry in time.”

Ellana nodded silently as Cassandra and Dorian hurried off to find supplies. Still shivering, she sat down on an exposed boulder in an attempt to steady herself. Had it not been from the very real danger to her health, Solas would have found the incident amusing. But seeing the glorious exalted Inquisitor shivering under his robes that were clearly too big for her, hair dripping muddy water onto her face, he thought she had never looked more _real._

Once the campfire had been established and tents erected, the Inquisitor seemed eager to retreat to her bed. Solas followed without question, and once Dorian’s soft snoring and Cassandra’s tossing and turning could be heard from the next tents, they began to converse about the day’s events. 

“Truthfully, I’m still rather embarrassed…”

“Why would you be embarrassed? I am sure Andraste must have, as the Iron Bull would say: ‘fallen ass over tea kettle’ at least once.”

“Yes, well…” Stifling a giggle, Ellana raised her hand to her mouth, but the urge to shiver overtook her, sending her shoulders quaking and legs recoiling towards her body. 

“Are you still cold?” Solas asked, but without waiting for a reply, he flared a minute flame at the end of his finger tips, before placing them just below her collarbone, sending waves of a gentle warmth through her extremities. 

“Oh…”

Solas watched her intently as the magic spread through her veins, eyes never leaving hers. Her skin was cold to the touch, but was unimaginably soft. His fingertips dusted the surface of her skin, skimming across her collarbone, before forming a closed hand which came to rest over her heart. He watched as her head slowly rolled back, exposing her delicate throat laced with vallaslin, eyes closed. He imagined what could happen to her in such a vulnerable position. An enemy could strike, having perfect access to arteries and veins that would have her bleeding out in seconds. Someone could come from behind, twist and snap her pretty little neck, leaving the Inquisition leaderless. 

Or, what _he_ could do to her. His lips gently pressing under her jawline, over that scar nobody else had seemed to notice. Now that he knew what she felt like to touch her, he could see himself lowering his hand to her waist, other arm reaching around her to bring her closer, the heat now radiating from her body pressing up against his. 

“Mmmm…”

He knew that small hum of satisfaction was from the warmth of his spell, not his hand or where it was rested. Still, it only spurred on his curiosity further. He could move his hand across, instead, to reside on her nearly exposed breast. Ellana’s armour was hanging over the fire outside, she was now covered instead by a thick fibrous blanket that was hardly soft to the touch. He wished she would let him cover her in his robe. It was bound to be more comfortable, but she hadn’t wanted him to get cold. It amused him how she thought of him as a young impressionable mage, wise in theory but not in practicality. How wrong she was. 

“Solas?” 

He hadn’t realised his whole body had gone stiff, eyes fixated on the area between her breasts, below where his hand lay. Her question jerked him out of his day dream.

“Is something wrong?” She had now sat up on her knees moving closer towards him, hands over his.

“My apologies, Inquisitor. I was… thinking of our plans for tomorrow. Are you feeling any warmer?”

“Yes definitely.” A blush had crept up her face blossoming in the apples of her cheeks. The tan she’d developed in the Emerald Graves was starting to fade and a sprinkle of freckles was now visible across her nose and cheekbones. He had the urge to reach out and touch her face, perhaps under the guise of taking her temperature, but he resisted. Instead, he removed his hand and tucked the blanket tighter around her, erasing any sight of her naked flesh. Ellana seemed to flinch slightly as he took his hand away, but he summoned all his willpower to ignore it. As he began to rise to his feet, she chimed:  
 “It’s still early. We could… talk about some of your journeys in the Fade or… go over the layout for tomorrow?” 

“Goodnight, da’len.” She flinched as he said those words, but it helped to remind Solas of the position of trust she had appointed him to. She often came to him for guidance and wisdom, and he should not mistake that for anything else.


End file.
